


Repeat.  It’s always the same.

by Sophia_Bee



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 17:57:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2397557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan is stuck in a loop</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repeat.  It’s always the same.

Logan hates Veronica.

He tells himself a millions times a day how much he hates her. When she smiles, he reminded himself of his undying anger. When she tilts her head in that certain way that makes his heart ache he swears vengeance. He loathes her laughter that drifts across the lunchroom tables. He is a repulse by way her hand tucks in the crook of Duncan’s arm as they walk down the hallway together.

Most of all he hates the way she ends it every time, her mouth still swollen from his kisses, her breath coming in short bursts, her words slurred. She is trapped between his body and the hard cement block wall of the janitor’s closet or wedged in the last stall of the boy’s room over by the gym. His hand is still down her pants; his crotch is aching for release.

“This can’t happen again.” Veronica whispers each time, usually when Logan’s lips are tracing their way across her collar bone, sometimes when she is pinned to the wall with her legs spread, her jeans a pile on the floor, his hips between her thighs.

Logan wishes Veronica would shut up. Sometimes he tells her to shut up, kisses her hard until she moans against his mouth and she loses all capacity of thought.

Every time she tucks her shirt back in, wipes her face and looks at him with a strange mix of pity and sadness, and something else, a feeling that Logan can never find a definition for. Every time she tells him she loves Duncan, promises him this won’t happen again. Until two days later or a week later when they run into each other down an empty hallway and Veronica looks at him with hunger and want that makes him know that it will never be over. He fucks her and she bites his shoulder as she writhes against him. Then she makes her same broken promise over and over.

It is always the same. Repeat.

He spends his days slouching in one school desk after another. He spends his nights slouching on the couch in front of Duncan’s TV, the imprint of Veronica’s mouth still burning his skin as he pretends everything is okay. Veronica has started to find more reasons not to come over. Work. College applications. Dog sitting. She never gives Duncan the real reason. Logan is grateful. He’s lost his family, he’s lost Veronica, and he doesn’t want to lose his best friend too.

“It’s not that I don’t love him.” Veronica says again. They are sitting next to each other on the bleachers that overlook the mostly brown football field. She’s doing a story on the fall football team. Logan watched her walk toward the field after last period, her book bag bouncing off her hip, a notepad tucked under her arm. He watched her with hungry eyes, drinking in the way her hips move, the way her hair swings back and forth, and then he followed her. He didn’t know why. Maybe it’s because being near Veronica makes the sharp ache that’s been lodged in his chest for the last six months seem a little less painful.

It is always the same. Repeat.

The same conversation over and over again until her words invade his dreams, twisting themselves into nightmares where Veronica is holding up bloody body parts and smiling sweetly and saying, “It’s not that I don’t love him.”

“It's just…”

Logan stares out at the horizon. He twists his hands. He waits in the silence, the words he wants to say hanging at the tip of his tongue until they finally spill out. He regrets them before he can even finish saying them because he knows they’re true, he just doesn’t know how true. That’s the part that could rip him apart.

“You just like to fuck me.”

The words are tawdry. They might as well go to the Camelot and join the ranks of cheating spouses who cycle through the dingy rooms with their stale-smoke-mixed-with-cheap-pine-cleaner smell and decades old threadbare bedspreads. Then she could sit on the edge of the bed and sob about her betrayal and he could glance over at the bible sitting in the nightstand, its presence condemning him to hell.

Logan isn’t sure he believes in hell. He isn’t convinced there could be anything worse than what his life has become.

Veronica is silent. She doesn’t look at him. She scribbles some notes on the pad of paper she is now balancing on her knees. Logan wants to reach out and take her hand, to stroke the skin across her knuckles, grip her fingers in his. That would be too intimate, too much like everything they aren’t: girlfriend, boyfriend, lovers.

“I have to go.” Veronica says suddenly, standing up, pulling her bag onto her shoulder. Logan doesn’t say anything back. He can’t look at her, so he stares down at the ground, at the playfield, up at the sky, at anything but Veronica’s face. If he had dared to look, had been brave enough to sneak just one sly glance her way, he would have known. Everything on her face would have told him that it is something more than fucking.

He’d loved her once. In the earliest hours of the morning he would think they might have a future together, maybe even grow old together. That seemed like a lifetime ago and when he lost that dream, the one he had barely been able to admit to himself, the pain had been too much to stand.

Everything is the same. Repeat.

Logan’s stuck in a loop, the same story over and over until he wishes at least he had the guts to pick up a gun and put it to his head, to stop the tape. He daydreams about the way it would feel, heavy in his hand, cold. He wonders about putting it in his mouth, how the metal would taste. He knows he would do it if he didn’t have the occasional encounter in the bathroom of the Tasty Freeze to look forward to. Veronica had tasted like vanilla ice cream with butterscotch sauce. After that he didn’t daydream about the gun for a couple weeks.

Duncan is happy that is girlfriend and his best friend are starting to get along. At least the acrimonious sniping between them as stopped. Veronica walks into the penthouse, Logan grunts at her. She ignores him. Duncan is happy. He smiles and throws his arm over Logan’s shoulder. He tells him how glad he is that everything is working out. He has everything he’s ever wanted. Logan wonders what Duncan would say if he knew that Logan has been fucking his girlfriend, the semi-famous, at least infamous, virtuous and loyal girl detective of Neptune. He almost says something then stops. Instead he hugs Duncan back. Because Logan thinks he’s started to understand something.

“It’s not that I don’t love him.”

They’re in Veronica’s bedroom on a Sunday afternoon. Logan is tracing a missive across Veronica’s bare back, his fingers leaving the words that he can never find a way to say. Logan’s glad they’ve graduated from closets and bathrooms to sneaking around on the weekends that Keith’s working out of town and Duncan’s visiting Celeste and Jake in Aspen.

“I know,” Logan murmurs as he places a kiss on the delicate skin inside Veronica’s elbow. He hears her sharp intake of breath at the touch of his lips and moves his free hand down her hip. “I love him too.”

Logan now understands that Veronica’s been lying all along, trying to find a way around what she’d doing. She’s not in love with Duncan Kane. She never has been. She just doesn’t want to hurt him.

Logan looks into her eyes. They are wide and shining with tears. Logan knows she’ll hold them back as long as possible. Even if it’s over the boyfriend she can’t find a way to love in the same way he loves her. He traces the tear as it spills over her lower lid and slides down her cheek, erasing it, maintaining the myth that Veronica Mars doesn't cry.

“You just like to fuck me.” Logan murmurs, his breath hot against her ear. Veronica nods, grateful for the excuse he’s given her for her betrayal. She kisses him and Logan tries to shut out the images in his mind of growing old with her.

It’s always the same. Repeat. Except when it’s different.


End file.
